


Sacrosanct

by Jaydee_Faire



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Gen, i guess, light gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 19:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13014570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaydee_Faire/pseuds/Jaydee_Faire
Summary: Precious gems and roses fall from her mouth when she speaks and all agree she is beautiful because of it.





	Sacrosanct

Precious gems and roses fall from her mouth when she speaks and all agree she is beautiful because of it.

The moss here crushes beneath each step, shrivels in a cast shadow, no matter how sweet her touch nor how shining the baubles that drop from her lips when she sings. She knows and she cares very little for what must die on her way to my embrace. 

The place that I guard is small and secret, stone arches curling overhead like protecting arms wrapped in ivy, emerald and obsidian and streaks of ivory where moonlight pierces down. Below, greenery grows cautiously, carefully in a place that hasn't seen sunlight since before I was sent here, before stones tumbled down to make ruins, before some ordinary mouth said 'divine.'

When she comes, moving through cold stripes of moonlight that turn her bronze skin to smoky silver, someone must be there to receive her, to look upon her and say, yes, she is lovely, to see the treasures tumbling from her lips and say yes, she is holy. 

Few of the others before me looked anywhere but her mouth, dark and wide and full of wealth. They forgot that jewels slice, and thorns stab. They thought carmine dripped down her chin and stained her breast scarlet. They heard her song as one of welcome and thanks, if they heard it at all.

She crosses the ruins to me each night, bloody, staggering footprints in her wake. She walks slowly across the ruined stone, eyes down, looking up only when I call to her. She calls back, sapphires and bruised petals clattering around her, and starts up her song, blooms growing from her throat and tumbling down to be trodden on, citrine and emerald and peridot and lapis cracking and rolling away to be forgotten in the moss. 

When she comes to me, I let her lean against me, head against my chest. She's become bony, ribs and hips hard under my hands, her hair brittle and dry. She sighs out a breath scented with the perfume of flowers and decay. Each night, I tell her that want no more songs from her. Each night, she lifts her head to put her ruined mouth to mine.

Yes, she is lovely. Yes, she is holy. And every kiss, no matter how tender, tastes of soil and salt.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write something with hanahaki disease, but couldn't think of anything that hadn't already been done to death, so I played around with the the idea from the fairy tale "Diamonds and Toads" where a sweet girl is blessed by a fairy so that gems and flowers shoot out of her mouth when she talks.
> 
> Twitter: @su1cidesauce


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